


You're with me, right?

by Skythian



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, F/F, Love, Mystery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 15:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skythian/pseuds/Skythian
Summary: A fic diving into Lena and Kara's emotional journey post-reveal. I'm trying to follow the series format in terms of plot sequence and character development while adding my own gay touch to the mix. Exploration of feelings for both characters is going to be a major theme.





	You're with me, right?

**Author's Note:**

> [Takes place following the end of s4]

Who is Kara Danvers? She is who you pass by without a second thought at the crack of dawn, tirelessly reviewing her article before the deadline date; she is who you meet on the streets interjecting between the reaper and your life; she is who you come across strolling beside your favorite local coffee shop on a Tuesday morning. She is all those people, all those identities that walk separate under one heart, one soul, one spirit: even when she herself is torn apart between which role to play. To be Kara Danvers, one must be Supergirl, Kara Zor-El _and_ National City’s Ace reporter. The whole package. And that is all the confidence she needs, because it is all the confidence she has.

Yet, the doors upon to which she faces engulf her in a paralyzing dread unparalleled to previous experience.

Kara lightly touches her ponytail while proceedingly twirling her fingers around the hair elastic, lingering for only an instant before sliding them back to her glasses. She halts any motion until, just as erratically, she decides to wave around her arms quite frantically, evidently forgetting how to position them. The new secretary cocks her head to the side as she watches the poor girl squirm and enter a strenuous staring competition with the door ahead, before firmly repeating for her own good, “you can go in, Miss, she won’t bite.” These words break Kara from her trance. She flashes a weak yet sheepish smile at the woman before letting out an exasperated sigh.

Kara Danvers plunges against her apprehensive emotions, swinging the doors to her boss’s office wide open. Immediately, her eyes fall to L-Corp’s CEO, who is supposedly gazing outward through the window in front of her as if she was searching for something unattainable: a striking contrast to her usual monotonous days sitting glued to laborious work. Kara stands quietly for a moment as she studies Lena Luthor. With the woman’s back turned and hidden by the chair she sits on, the isolated detail about her is an arm propped against a desk. Like a spider dangling from her web, Lena’s slender fingers grasp the rim of her glass, filled substantially with scotch, hanging it loosely by the tips. Kara now concerned, glances around the room, detecting changed furniture and significant piles of paper and files tucked scarcely at the side of the desk on a perfectly vivid afternoon.

“Oh? Kara.” Lena turns to face her friend? Her acquaintance? Her co-worker? Her someone...standing at the doorway, uncertain of what voice to use.

“Just in time.” Lena quickly puts on a face and gestures for Kara to sit down on the chair directly across from her own. “What do you think?” She nods at the direction facing her sofa and a seemingly new, extensive and wealthy painting above it. “I just had it imported. It’s actually an original, by Kandinsky himself dating back to the year 1904: a real piece of work.” With the glass scooped in hand, Lena whirls around and flings its contents as she casually glosses over all the rich details.

Kara looks obviously puzzled, hesitant even, but still complies with Lena’s wishes by glancing over at this proposed work of art. One would note the painting expanding essentially over the entire wall, but the colors are what attract Kara’s attention inward. Across the canvas rests a warm, inviting and calming blue disrupted by violent dashes of red, appearing in the shape of dahlias and traces of repulsive yellow splattered consistently throughout the piece, producing both a sense of intensity and disharmony.

Meanwhile, as the Luthor focuses on the woman in front of her, her eyes slightly narrow. Like a predator with prey, she observes: carefully and rationally. Her breathing turns shallow, delicate, almost afraid to shatter this moment sunk in utter earnest silence: the only truth she could believe in, for at least a moment. Lena notices Kara entranced, contemplative, relaxed, vulnerable. She peers in closer in an attempt to scrutinize every last detail: from the way the corners of the girl’s mouth twitch when she changes emotion, to the way she adjusts her glasses when something is on her mind, to the way her eyes glisten when she thinks. And Lena despises it. Despises the way she makes her feel. Entrapped. Uncertain. Irrational. Livid. The more she looks at her alleged hero. Lena feels her soul as an assortment of violin strings that, when strained, produce a song of peril from within. And what can one do against such abounding emotions plaguing one’s heart? Nothing? Something? Anything? All vague concepts against the sweltering blaze clawing in the very pit of her core, rooted in a deeply-seated abyss. 

At the same time, unbeknownst to Kara, the feelings that manifest from deep pondering coupled with the unusual circumstances and atmosphere push her to ask: “Are you okay?” as she shifts back towards Lena, searching for her eyes. “You haven’t been returning any of my calls.”

Lena dodges her glance and for the first time sets aside the glass of scotch. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she speaks softly while parting her lips and wallowing in her own thoughts for a brief second, as if the question was directed at herself.

Kara steps closer. “Hey.” She shines Lena a sincere smile followed by a change in expression, marking a sense of concern towards her dear friend’s evident distress. “I understand if with everything that's been going on….” Kara attempts to gesture as she is at a loss for words before clearing her throat and starting her thoughts anew. “It’s hard.” She picks up a pen lying on Lena’s desk and twists its cap back and forth. “So, we’re all here for you, don’t forget that. And if you ever want to talk about it....” She points to herself and then at Lena with a nervous smile before exhaling deeply and breaking from thought, now looking sharp and long-faced, her tone turning low and serious: “I’m sorry I didn’t check in on you sooner.”

Lena stands up as if something in those words awaken her from a lethargic state. She composedly walks to the opposite side of her desk with some effort, leaning against it for support. The pair are separated by only the faint warmth pressing in-between the small distance from where they stand. And that distance only shortens as Lena Luthor locks eyes with Kara Danvers for the first time today.

“You know,” she cocks her head slightly to one side and proceeds in a calm, unhurried manner, “with my family, we’d just pretend to be there for one another as a way to manipulate or to keep an eye on each other. But each time, I learned the hard way. I don’t know what it is with me and trusting liars.”

Lena peers into Kara’s eyes. All drops silent: the bustling city noise, the buzzing phone calls, the small office chatter reverberating through the walls; and surroundings seemingly vanish from existence. All focus is attuned to this moment akin to a simmering campfire settling in the middle of a dense forest wrapped in the dark of night: dancing flames luring one into its enticing illusion, a casted spell which renders everything else peripheral and poof, Lena is drawn like a moth to a flame. The pull is almost metaphysical as it tugs at the heart chords and she sways, attempting to re-balance the weight and invisible force: one should not touch fire unless they are prepared to get burned. There are remnants of a scorching sensation in Lena’s chest which she promptly dismisses as an unpleasant consequence of a scotch-soaked throat.

At the same time, Kara is drawn by Lena’s heavy glance. Only a negligible distance separates the two, yet they are galaxies apart: disembodied entities having a conversation in the stars. In an open, limitless space resembling a vast, desolate ocean, Kara feels herself drowning in that longing stare. Her heart echoes an emotion articulated by a string of words long residing in a soul drenched with guilt and uncertainty: _I’m here. You’re here. So, why do I feel like I have already lost you._

“Lena, I—”

Suddenly, the two hear a loud thud originating from the direction of the window in Lena Luthor’s office. Heads spin towards the origin of the sound to where both witness an imprint and a featured creature resuming flight. The attempt is short-lived as it merely waddles and hovers before crashing straight down into the streets from above a 40-story building.

“Was that—” Kara shakes her head in confusion, feeling a slight buzzing and also a sudden weakness in her limbs.

“A bird?” Lena joins in on the disarray in a temporarily startled and in awe form, folding her arms in thought.

“Ah,” Kara strains her voice while rubbing at one temple with her hand, “was it wearing a tag on its ankle?”

“Tag?” Lena asks, pondering blankly, as her eyes remain glued at the bird’s outline before their conversation is interrupted by a noise coming from next door.

Both hurry to the other room and find the secretary collapsed on the ground from her chair; papers from the desk left dispersed around the room from the fall.

“Oh no,” Lena gasps before quickly running to crouch by the unconscious woman’s side to check her pulse while blood continues to escape the secretary’s mouth, nose and eyes. 

Meanwhile, Kara dials the DEO as she hastily opens the door just a crack and checks the hallway leading to a room filled with desks of countless employees stationed across the vicinity. Warranting that no one else is harmed along with the fact that everyone seems to be engaged in regular work activity, she fully closes the gap in the door.

Upon hearing Alex’s voice resounding from the other line she promptly relays her message: “Alex, we need the paramedics sent urgently to L-Corp; Lena’s employee is unconscious. We don’t know if there are others who are hurt yet, but we’re on our toes.”

Lena looks down with a pained expression as she gives out a defeated sigh and plops onto the ground beside the breathless body. “She’s dead,” Lena mutters in disbelief before repeating with a cleared throat and a louder, more bold voice, unable to stay blind to the truth yet simultaneously feeling a knot form in her gut. “She’s dead.”

Lena feels a weight sinking her further into the floor. She takes a second or a minute before picking herself up to her feet, yet again, before it all manages to consume her whole.

Kara stares wide-eyed at Lena and then the secretary. “Hurry,” she emphasises to the DEO agent before ending the call and walking closer to the desk. “There.” she points at the cup of coffee sitting near the ledge. “We should take a sample to examine it at the lab for poisoning.” Kara proceeds to empty some of the liquid into a sampling vial which she fumbles up from her belongings.

“Oh, you just happen to have one in your purse?” Lena asks scornfully with a sleazy drunk, alas merely tipsy in reality, smirk twisting across her visage.

“A reporter’s work is never done? I am tenacious?” Kara replies on the go as a quip, too distracted by the victim and too busy deflecting Lena’s unexpected comment to notice the Luthor’s contemptuous tone. So, what came next packed a punch greater than any blow Supergirl has had withstood before in her entire career.

“Do you happen to keep your cape in your purse too?”

“What?” Kara asks immediately with a blank expression before she realises what word she had spat out, before she realises what Lena had just said, before she can look the woman, she has lied to for three years, directly in the eyes.

And Lena glances away before Kara even has the chance. “Go deliver the sample for an analysis; I’ll go make sure no one else is hurt,” Lena speaks sternly and adamantly despite the staggering of a few syllables creeping through in parts of the sentence. Her fast-paced tone ensures she is not interrupted. So, when she darts away just as quickly into her office, its evidently for the same reason.

Kara stands silent at first until silence is replaced by palpitations and the sensation of her heart beating loudly once her attention flips inward; the sound of her own breathing deepens, and each breath sends her beyond herself with dizziness overtaking as colors begin swiveling at her peripheral vision. Kara snaps out of her thoughts as the thick blanket of silence gets torn by a bleak reminder of death at her doorstep, resting at her feet. Her face twists into grief but she finds strength in channeling her persona. _You're on working hours, Supergirl_. She affirms to herself before scanning the room and noticing the upper half of the huge double hung window wide open. Soon after screwing the cap on the sampling vial she passes through the opening and flies back to the DEO while ensuring to leave the body at the crime scene, as was expected.

Next door, a short time later, Lena finds herself surveying the newly purchased painting attentively while taking a restricted yet luxurious sip from her glass of scotch, meekly flushing away the recent conversation from mind. _Little boxes_ _. Little boxes. Little boxes._

“Lena,” Alex calls out, peering through the crack in the door. “Hey.”

“The body,” Lena clears her throat and speaks, jumping straight to business, a cheap attempt to hide the fact that her thoughts had gone wondering around a million miles away from here just mere seconds ago, “it’s just around the corner.”

Alex nods. “I’m having my forensics team sweep the room for more information and clues right now,” she continues with a softer and curious intonation, “but, hey, how are you?”

“I’m fine.” Lena exhales. “At this point you’d think I'd be used to mysteries involving my secretaries,” she remarks facetiously, overwhelmed more than irritated.

With her tone shifting quickly to one more brazen, she begins speaking instantaneously about the case. “Considering the escalating uncertainty of our situation I decided to initiate lockdown. Earlier just now, I called my security personnel and had them sent to identify all possible victims around campus, can your agents join them?”

Alex communicates the request as orders over her earpiece to the rest of the DEO squad as a demonstration to her cooperation.

“I’ll also need to conduct my own analyses. I wanted to quickly grab a few samples that I’m able to on the go, so if you can just wait before moving the body….” Lena lets her question fall, like it was obvious that they would allow it.

“That. I can’t allow it.”

“You don’t trust me.” Lena says as a matter-of-fact.

“This isn’t about trust. This is about the law. We’ve been seeing similar murders happening around the city for a few days now. The crime falls under DEO jurisdiction.”

“But, surely you can see how this could maximize work productivity, especially since my own staff is involved.”

“It’s about code. Police integrity dictates maintaining a chain of custody in an investigation. So, when things are not too grave, I prefer to not make any more waves than I have to.”

Lena sighs deeply.

“And hey,” Alex stretches out to her with words. “I heard from Kara. She told me how she tried calling you but...with everything that has happened and is still happening...you must be taking it hard.” Alex locates a glass of scotch standing on the table to her left side.

“She’s been worried about you.” Alex skims through those words as if they were merely said as a stepping-stone for her next thought. However, she had noticed how for someone so unmoved, wearing that deadpan expression like pride, there is a slight twitch at the corners of Lena’s mouth at the mention. “So, I think you should sit this one out, for now.”

Before the other party could reply, they both get interrupted by an agent’s sudden question and Alex immediately steps out before she can repair the tension. “We’ll keep you posted.” She throws in a small gesture to reassure Lena before heading back out onto the field. 

The clouds cover the sun and shade swallows all surroundings. It moves rapidly across Lena’s face, resting upon her like a thin veil covering the nuances in her expression as the cuffed former president, Phil Baker, is dragged by police, on the television screen, shadowing her right from behind. Lena turns around instinctively as if feeling something gawking at her back. Upon witnessing the scene, she increases the volume: “—had been impeached and arrested for his newly exposed involvement with Lex Luthor. Currently, awaiting trial at the National City Detention Centre,” the news reports.

Lena strolls towards her couch to sit, then positions herself in front of a chess board. “No new report on Lex Luthor’s body. However, with Supergirl’s help, the Superfriends’ and the police’s contribution, retribution has certainly been served for this nation.” She sips her drink of delight which has longingly awaited her return on the table (or is it the other way around?), as the TV continues rambling.

“With a newly evolved pro-alien movement across social media and the streets, we might be witnessing a coming-of-age, a symbolic victory through the defeat of Lex Luthor and those involved. The one shimmering of hope and justice.”

Lena sets up the chess pieces diligently and meticulously.

“The wielder of significant power who lives a life of _mediocrity_ ,” she whispers under her breath while moving her white _bishop_ chess piece forward, creating a clear path for the king opposite to her own. Her tone mimics her mother’s voice: a Luthor tone, as if she was trying it on for size. An intonation which would make any person tremble at the very core of their spine at its unequivocal, heavy and ominous nature.

Lena reclines: back pressed against the sofa and arms crossed as she gazes outward through the window in front of her, searching for something unattainable.

Yet now, there was a gleam in her eye.

**Author's Note:**

> no one:
> 
> me: did you guys also know that dahlias signify commitment to another person/eternal love and a red dahlia signifies betrayal/dishonesty; Were dahlias designed for supercorp? I think so. 
> 
> anyways...I've been getting more busy with work and stuff dunno when the next update will be, but hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter. Let me know any feedback you may have so I can improve my skills and provide you guys with better content.


End file.
